For several days, Guinevere basked in bliss, even her sword practice at the Training Ground felt unusually listless.
Yet once she laid down her sword, she had to confront the urgent matter of having children. Though the King of Knights had made her promises, Guinevere knew she couldn't rest easy until this issue was resolved.
To this end, she resolved to leave no stone unturned.
"Tristan, after the Lady of the Lake received Lancelot's letter, that Merlin still hasn't replied?"
"A Faerie named Nimue told me that Merlin didn't even read the letter. He simply had his pet devour it."
"That old bastard, Merlin..."
In a corner of the Royal Palace, Guinevere spoke with her Personal Knight, Tristan. Lancelot might not be able to return, but at least his letters could.
Yet Merlin's silence suggested he had foreseen the future but still chose to remain uninvolved.
"Tristan, thank you for your efforts."
Standing rooted to the spot, Guinevere watched Tristan depart. Having abandoned all hope of Merlin's intervention, she now had no choice but to confront Morgan directly.
Ever since the Magecraft Department was established, Morgan had been frequently seen wandering the Knight Academy, personally selecting over a dozen children with promising magic circuits from among the students.
These children became Morgan's first disciples, guided by her into the world of Magecraft. However, Morgan lacked patience. After completing their initial instruction, she released them to practice independently, planning to resume formal lessons once they had mastered the basics.
Meanwhile, the Mages who had formed contracts with Guinevere arrived in Camelot City. After obtaining permission, they began excavating a new dungeon beneath the Knight Academy, intending to use it as a base for teaching and collaboration.
Morgan's first cohort of disciples was granted the opportunity to seek guidance from these experienced Mages.
With her formal teaching duties temporarily suspended, Morgan retreated into her usual state of secretive activity, leaving everyone to wonder what she was truly up to.
Yet every day after lunch, Morgan still returned to her chambers for an afternoon nap.
Guinevere stood outside Morgan's bedchamber door, her hand raised to knock. Before she could, the door swung open, revealing Lady Morgan still dressed in her revealing attire.
"You've come to tell me you've made your decision, haven't you? The potion is on the vanity. If you're ready, you may come and claim me."
Guinevere's steps faltered, but she resolutely stepped inside.
"The aftermath of the snowstorm is far from resolved. Providing seeds and livestock to farmers and herders will keep Lia busy for weeks. She won't have time to observe."
"Then what are you doing here? Don't expect me to withdraw my demand and grant your wish unconditionally, do you?"
"Lady Morgan, surely you don't want Camelot to fall into ruin? If this drags on endlessly, we'll both lose."
Guinevere closed the door behind her. This time, she didn't look at Morgan with disdain. Having finally achieved what she had only dreamed of in her past life—realizing her desires with the King of Knights—she now felt more at ease in the presence of feminine allure.
Beside Morgan's bed, Guinevere sat down sideways, her gaze intensifying with unwavering determination.
As Morgan witnessed this undisguised fervor, she unexpectedly flinched, but quickly glared back fiercely.
She wasn't wearing a veil now.
"Guinevere, what do you really want?"
Whether she was drugged or not, Morgan was certain Guinevere would never harm her, simply because she adored the King of Knights.
"Lady Morgan, seeing your unflappable confidence, you seem to understand that I could never agree to your previous terms."
The burning gaze lingered, and Morgan's rationality gradually flared to life. She wanted to say that if agreement was impossible, then they would simply continue to stall, but...
"You may refuse, but I'm certain my foolish sister would accept anything for the sake of the kingdom!"
Morgan sat up, her voice soft yet resolute. But as soon as the words left her lips, she realized why Guinevere had suddenly grown so anxious. Just days ago, knights had reportedly toasted to Guinevere and the King of Knights bearing a prince or princess soon.
"Guinevere, you wouldn't have told that idiot sister about our deal, would you? Did she actually permit you to come to me? If so, the deal is off. This no longer satisfies me!"
Looking at Morgan, Guinevere hadn't anticipated this response. But if the deal was off, then what would replace it...?
"I want you to tell that idiot sister with your own lips that I love Morgan and that we'll be together frequently in the future. And I want her to guard the door properly!"
As she spoke, Morgan's face lit up with excitement, as if she believed this scheme would torment the King of Knights worse than death.
Little did she know, Guinevere had already resolved to stop at nothing. Her declaration that the King of Knights wouldn't come was merely a pretext to unleash her plans without restraint.
"Sister Morgan," Guinevere said, her voice sharp. "I recall warning you before—you're too impulsive, and when you act impulsively, you disregard the consequences.
Did you truly think I'd agree to such absurd conditions? And don't you think we're standing too close to each other?"
Guinevere paused, then her hand shot out, seizing Morgan's face, which was still flushed with delusional fantasies.
"Sister Morgan," Guinevere continued, her grip tightening, "what gives you the confidence to threaten a Knight standing right in front of you, whose strength rivals your own?"
The smile on Morgan's face froze, her features contorting slightly—mirroring the King of Knights' own twisted expressions. As Guinevere gazed at her, she silently vowed:
This isn't the Lostbelt Queen Morgan from FGO. This is just that damned Morgan, consumed by hatred for the King of Knights, desperate to make me and Lia miserable! Guinevere, if you hesitate now, you might never get such a perfect, unexpected opportunity again!
With this thought in mind, Guinevere punched to her left, shattering the suddenly materialized Magic Circle. Simultaneously, she squeezed Morgan's cheek with intense force, momentarily disrupting her thoughts.
Though an immensely powerful Mage, Morgan rarely engaged in direct combat and possessed an exceptionally low pain tolerance.
When Morgan regained her senses, she found her magic circuits disrupted, and around her neck, a beautiful emerald necklace capable of suppressing her magical abilities.
"I obtained this from a Mage I collaborated with," Guinevere explained. "He warned it was fragile and advised me not to rely on it too much."
Already struggling to resist, now further restrained by the necklace and the constant threat of suppression, Morgan merely glared coldly at Guinevere, trying to discern what she intended to use to force her submission.
Pain? If Guinevere went too far and left marks on her body, not only would the King of Knights be displeased, but her unruly children like Gawain would never forgive such unjust humiliation of their mother.
As for humiliation that might bring pleasure, Morgan was certain Guinevere would never stoop to such tactics.
Yet, after several hours, Morgan found herself grinding her teeth.
She was starving, yet Guinevere continued to devour delectable pastries right in front of her, each bite seemingly more tempting than the last.
In truth, she was indeed a glutton and the King of Knights' biological sister. Otherwise, she wouldn't have brazenly asked for the recipe for that new cake at Lancelot's wedding banquet.
"Lady Morgan, just relent a little. Let me offer you something else in exchange for your help in conceiving a child. Think about it—what's more enjoyable and amusing: causing pain to others or bringing pleasure to yourself?"
"Keep dreaming! My pleasure comes from making that foolish sister of mine suffer!"
Gurgle!
"Damn it! Just kill me!"
Everyone has their weaknesses, and Morgan hadn't yet become so extreme as to seek only the King of Knights' suffering.